chapter 2.
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The sex was a great distraction.
But nothing lasts forever.
It wasn't long after I went back inside that I slowly felt his ghost begin to slip in my mind. In my skin. In my bones and cells and muscles. In my heart.
His eyes stare at me from the shadows but when I look, they turn away not embarrassed just gentlemanly enough to remember that it's rude to stare. But it doesn't mean I don't feel his topaz eyes on me. It doesn't mean I don't feel his icy lips on my forehead or my hand.
I try to start conversation with Baillie but she's a recovering broken heart with a long past of dissapointment and grief. I can't force her to talk to me. She's too nice and innocent.
I make small-talk with some of the drunks but their all too hammered so I really can't tell what their saying. More men come in and I can't leave Baillie for another distraction again. Even though I have before. I bet she thinks I'm a slut. I do.
The bar is actually almost full now and I'm swamped with orders.
Wait a minute ... it shouldn't be I'm it should be we're. I look around, where's Baillie?
It doesn't take long for me to notice the broken sobs under the radio blaring heavy metal coming from the disgusting bathroom that never gets cleaned because we're both to scared of what will jump out of the toilet or the drain in the sink.
I finish up the last five orders and leave my station. Our boss is too busy telling some old drunks about his time in the war were he lost his right eye.
"Baillie?" I ask, knocking on the door. I can already smell the never ending stench of the tiny restroom.
"Uh ... I-I'll be out in a minute." Baillie stutters back. He voice broke thee time. I can hear the tears and shorts breaths. Damn Maggie to the deepest most painful chamber of hell.
"Baillie, it's me Izzy." I try to keep my voice calming. "I'm gonna come in alright?" I don't wait for an answer.
I stench hits me like an SUV speeding down the highway and my feet have been glued down.
Baillie tries to hide her red face from me but I can still see the wet trails from her salty tears and her bleeding lip that she's still biting on to keep from crying in front of me. Why didn't I notice her come in here?
I put a reassuring hand on Baillie's way-too-thin shoulder and say, "It'll get better B. Promise."
Baillie closes her eyes.
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep Iz." Her voice is a deadly monotone that sends chills up my spine. She sounds like one of them.
Suddenly a sick green rises under the red on her cheeks. "Are you feeling okay?" I move to put my hand on her forehead check her temperature but I swipe it outta the way as she doubles over and pukes up what seems to be all the meals she ate this week. Thankfully most of it landed in the moldy toilet that scares people into holding it in till they get home.
I small scream came out riding the vomit too and the tall dark Arnold Schwarzenegger impressionist is instantly standing in the door way, his nose crumpled up from the smell just like mine and Baillie's.
"Oh my God!" Baillie wails and I hold her hair back. Tears start streaming down her multi-colored face. She clutches her stomach wrinkling her white blouse. She's shaking like a leaf in the fucking wind.
"Help!" Baillie's shreek is like forks and knives scrapping on a fine china plate.
"Someone call a doctor!" It's me who yells this time. We need doctor to either make Baillie feel better or at least put tape over her mouth. It's mean but it'll make us all feel so much better.
The extremely tall, extremely buff dude is the only one who steps forward. He flings Baillie over his broad shoulder before I can stop him and I doubt I even could stop make him flinch.
The man I recently fucked doesn't even look at me as he walks out the back door and into the foreboding night. And then he's running. I've only seen a few select people run faster than he did but boy could he run. It took a few heart beets before I realized that a strange big man just ran off with my friend. And I don't even know his name. This could be a problem.
"Hey! Get back here!" I race after him but my short legs are no match.
Since I left Charlies I've spent a lot of my time running or in the gym or doing crunches and push-ups in the motel room I'm staying at and I've definitely gotten stronger and more toned but compared to this guy it's like I'm still a weak baby that can't wipe the drool of it's chin.
It doesn't take long for me to realize that it's hopeless. There's no way I'll catch up to him.
My feet think faster than my brain and before I know it I'm riding Harley into the desert in search of the bastard that just stole my only friend.
As long as I can see him I won't lose him. I repeat these words in my head over and over to keep my breathing from going out of control.
The wind lashes out at my eyes and blinding tears form but I blink past them and don't drop my gaze off the man. I can see Baillie's long blond hair practically glowing in the moonlight, making it look white.
I look behind me and I can barely see the bar anymore. I hope I can find my way back after this.
Do I want to go back? I've been here for four months now and I can already feel him dripping into me again. Like a poison. Like a drug.
"Stop!" I can't tell if I screamed that at my thoughts or at the man who still hasn't stopped sprinting.
Suddenly it's much harder to keep my eyes on the man. It's not just my tears that refuse to stop either or the angry wind. The man's form shakes, quivers almost. But just around the edges. His shoulders seem to mist a little and then arms and legs. Abruptly he launches Baillie away from him who is still writhing in pain. Baillie flies through the air and lands ten feet away from him.
My jaw drops and I almost lose control of Harley. The man has stopped running and his form keep quivering. It's not cold out. He's only wearing a pair of sweats though so who knows, maybe he's got a fever. I can't imagine a sick guy running like that though. Hell I can't imagine any guy running like that other than-
A razor blade cuts though my chest. Interrupting the thought.
I ride past the man without looking at him and go straight to Baillie.
Jumping off Harley I rush to her side. "Baillie?" I shake her shoulder but she's not seeing me. Her eyes are glazed over and she starring at the stars above. Her fists have forced her shirt into a wrinkled mess and there's some vomit on her chin in a little bit in her hair too. Tears stream down her twisted face as she moans and sobs rack her fragile shoulders.
"B, you okay? Baillie?" I'm scared. I can't lose her. She's my only friend. The only person who's convinced me to trust in the last three years. The only person I convinced myself to trust.
A rumbling noise startles me from behind. I turn and scream. My yell made Baillie groan.
A giant white ... thing is standing there. Right behind me. It's eyes are a strange mahogany brown. Familiar.
The white beast looks at me with intelligent eyes and jerks it's big head to the side.
A small, not-freaking-out voice in my head whispers, "It's telling you to move aside."
For once I decide to believe said small voice. But I can't move. I can't follow the beasts instructions. Not because I'm frozen with fear, although I wouldn't be surprised if I was, but because I can't leave Baillie here alone. I won't. I refuse. I will not comply.
I shake my head like a robot twice. Where'd that man go? He might not be a match to this monster but at least he'd have a fighting chance. Maybe.
The monster snarls and flashes me it's daggar like canines. I'll admit, I flinched.
"No." I whisper but I know the monster heard me loud and clear.
It's hackles are standing straight up. The thing is as big as a horse. Maybe bigger. It's paws look like the size of my head alone. I can almost make out well defined muscles under the white fur which looks so soft I wanna touch it.
Behind me, Baillie wails again. Her scream shatters the night like a metal baseball bat to an old window.
The monster and I lock eyes. I know the monster isn't afraid of me. But if it wanted to kill me it would've done it by now.
My wild guess is that for some weird, crazy reason the monster wants to kill Baillie. Probably because she is the weaker one right now. But that still doesn't make much sense. I'm refusing to leave, and it's not like it would be hard for this beast to kill me and Baillie. So, what's it waiting for? Why the hesitation?
"I'm not leaving without Baillie." I watch as the words sink in. The monster understands and believes me. Either that or I need to take some crazy pills and shut up. "Sorry, your just gonna have to go eat a snake or something." Or you could eat us but I'd rather you eat a snake. I hear they're good for you.
The monster doesn't so anything for awhile other than growl, snarl, and glare. Then, like a stature coming a alive, the beast turns and runs off. I watch it leave for awhile before I turn to my pained friend.
"Baillie it's fine. Okay, everything is going to be just fine. I promise you everything will be fine!" Baillie is shaking her head back and forth quickly. Her tears have stopped but she's started convulsing and her limbs are spasming out at random.
Her words are spoken in short haste gasps.
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep Iz." Her plump lips barely move to form the words.
I nod. "Yeah, guess I shouldn't but I am going to keep this one okay. B, don't worry."
I should've bought a cell phone last time I was in town. At least then I could've called the hospital. I won't be able to carry her back and I doubt she'll hold on if I try to drive us back to the bar on Harley. We are stuck. We are alone. And Baillie is going to die. Damn it.
"You should've moved." Suddenly we aren't alone. The man who brought us out here is back.
"What?" I stammer, confused and stressed. "Whatever, just help me get her back to town will you?" I beg.
"No, she's better out here." He's looking down at her. At the woman he probably killed for all I know.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I don't understand.
"Shut up!" He screams. I comply. Mostly outta shock but still my yelling isn't helping anyone. If Baillie dies, then I'll just kill him one way or another and then leave town. Probably head back up north or maybe Florida. Haven't been there in a while.
"Do you know what's happening to her?" I whisper but he hears anyway.
"Yes." He grunts.
"Will you tell me?" I ask, more like beg.
"Yes." His eyes never leave hers.
Okay, now he's pissing me off. "Will you tell me today? Or sometime this century?"
Finally, he looks at me. "She's been bitten by a damn vampire. I don't know why she's just now going through the Change but she is and when it's over she will want to drink all the humans blood." His voice is cold. Heartless. Why'd I sleep with him again?
Ice water's been poured into my veins. I feel it rushing under my skin as his words fold out in my mind. Baillie is going to become a v-v-v-va-va-vam-vam ... she's going to be one of them.
"How? How do you this?" The man looks surprised. He can tell from the look on my face that I'm not kidding around and I know that neither is he.
He seems to be trying to decide on whether he should tell me or not.
"Oh, what the hell." He murmurs this before continuing with his full strong voice. "I'm a werewolf. It's my job to kill bloodsuckers. I'm the horse-sized monster from before. You should've just moved."
He's a werewolf. He's the beast I just stood up to. This does take some time to sink in. But I figure, if v-v-v-vampires (ouch) are real why wouldn't werewolves be real too. Is anything just a legend anymore?
"The only reason I have for not tearing this bitch apart is she's different from what the stories say about when a human Changes into a bloodsucker." The man keeps speaking.
"She's not a bitch! You're a bitch for calling her that! Her name is Baillie June Ryde and she's a really good person mister ... what's your name?" I can feel warmth flooding my cheeks.
"I'm Paul Byrd. And your Izzy."
"Yeah, Izzy. Izzy Sampson." Baillie's started to moan again, I try stroking her hair to calm her. "How'd you know she was Changing?" I'm whispering again. I sound like a frightened 3rd grader.
"Because that's what I'm trained to do." Paul says, eyeing the space between my hand and Baillie's mouth.
"Were you born a werewolf or did you get bit?"
"Born."
"Oh."
"Yup."
There's something we have in common. Neither of us is any good at small talk. And I'm guessing he hates it just as much as me so I bite my lip and keep stoking my best friends long blond hair, turned white by the moonlight though.
"Ugh." Paul grunts and I finally notice his nose is all scrunched up despite the fact that we're miles away from the horid bar restroom.
"What's wrong?" I ask. He looks freaked out and his hands are shaking.
"She stinks like a fuckin' vamp already that's what's wrong!" Okay, now I'm completely confused.
I always thought Baillie smelt like her shampoo which she let me borrow one time. It's oranges plus the cough drops she's addicted to and the slight vomit breath she's got going on. I wouldn't say she stinks though. Men are so weird.
I lean in to smell her better and pretend not to notice Paul stiffen even more. Actually she doesn't smell that bad at all. I can still smell the oranges and cough drops, puke but there's some other scent on her that is starting to make me feel a little light headed. And that's when it hits me. She smells like him.
I gasp.
I close my eyes.
It's not razor blades anymore. Now it's giant shark teeth that bite me slowly. A slow death would be better than this.
I doesn't take long for me to realize that Baillie's stopped moaning and groaning. I open my eyes against the sudden pin needles that prick my eyelids and forehead.
Baillie looks beautiful.
Baillie looks stunning.
Baillie looks gorgeous.
Baillie looks magnificent.
Baillie looks other-worldly.
Baillie looks amazing.
Baillie looks perfect.
Baillie looks angelic.
Baillie flutters open her eyes, long lashes brushing her deathly pale skin. Her eyes are an unforgiving ... violet that fades into a deep starless night in the center. Her chest has stopped is subtle movement up and down. Her hands are no long balled up in tiny fists. Her lips are a perfect double-curve and are a pale pink. Her skin is flawless, like marble or ivory. Her hair is softer than before and has more volume. Hey waist was skinny before, now it's model material. Her legs seem longer and smoother, more toned too. Her hands look delicate but I know their not.
Paul seems utterly confused.
I notice something in the air then. Something strange. I sniff and realize its coming from Baillie. I sniff again. She doesn't smell like oranges or vomit or cough drops or like him at all. She smells like ... books, the woods right after a summer rain, and ... cookies hot outta the oven. All my favorite smells minus his.
I look back at Paul. He sniffing the air too. I wonder what he smells.
There's something weird going on here. Paul said she was becoming a vampire (ouch) but her eyes are violet not crimson or even black or topaz.
I take a deep breath. Steady myself.
"Baillie?" My voice cuts through the silence.
Baillie's eyes flutter a tad bit more before she looks at me. I feel incredibly insignificant under her violet gaze.
She doesn't look thirsty or evil so I continue. "How do you feel?"
Baillie seems to actually consider this first. "Okay, I guess. Kinda hollow. You?" Her voice is like a tiny sliver bell- small and delicate.
I laugh a little at the weirdness of it all. "I'm ... fine. Thanks."
Baillie smiles and I notice a shiver run up Paul's spine.
"Paul? You okay?" I ask. Baillie turns to drop her violet stare on him. His shoulders slump like there's a weight pressing down on them.
"I'm ... um ... uh ... I-I ... I'll live." He stammers.
Baillie giggles, her silver bell voice making me feel all warm inside, a little at his face. He does look kinda funny.
Paul smiles. I'm not the only one who felt the warmth.
"Paul? What do you smell?" I ask. Does she smell that good to everyone?
"Uh ..." He looks embarrassed but he talks anyway, "mint tooth paste, the ocean during a storm, and freshly mowed grass ."
"Are those your favorite smells?" I ask him.
Paul just nods, taking deep breaths through his nose.
"I smell all my favorite smells too. I think it's coming from Baillie. And my favorite smell are different from yours so I guess she smells whatever the person smelling her likes the smell of most." It's confusing but I think I'm starting to get the gist of it.
"I do?" Baillie asks. Her violet eyes excited.
"Yeah I think so." I answer. Paul's just stares at her. She is awesome looking.
"Wow. So ... why do you two keep staring at me?" Baillie's eyes are switching from mine to Paul's like she's watching a tennis match but she doesn't understand the language the announce is speaking.
I don't know how to answer her question and I'm not sure is Paul heard it. He's a little lost in his own me-stare-at-gorgeous-lady-world.
Ending the chapter here because it's 2:42 a.m. and I need some sleep. I'll try to write more tomorrow. Again thanks werewolves-girl for giving me my first review. Your wish is my command and here it is! I updated! :) Please R & R!
Thanks to brooklynsam3, Nutz for Kellan Lutz, , Kathy Hiester, and miss-glitz for their reviews. People, follow their example and tell me what you think please. :)
Also I realize that the chapters are all jacked up I really don't know how to fix them but believe me i've been trying. Please be patient because I'm still kinda new to all this. Thanks.